


Time After Time

by izzyisamachine



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: AU Drabbles, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M, Gen, or short fic, some not related, some related, the gang's all here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-15 09:45:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4602099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izzyisamachine/pseuds/izzyisamachine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'd choose you in any timeline: the Study Group through different ages and lifetimes in no particular order</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gimme that Swing: 1920s AU

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into the Community fandom and AO3, so this is really exciting! Since I'm a history nerd, these will mainly be historical au's, but since I'm a terrible history nerd, some of these may not be completely accurate. At some point I will probably ditch this setup because I lack conviction and dive into some fun modern-day au's, but I hope you enjoy!  
> Disclaimer: I do not own Community or its characters

The air inside the speakeasy was hot and sticky, pungent with the lingering smell of alcohol and the suffocating stench of smoke, which emanated ceaselessly from the cigarettes that dangled out of the hands and mouths of inebriated patrons. Annie discreetly wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. Despite the revealing nature of her cigarette girl uniform, she was still sweating profusely, and the strap of the heavy tray that hung around her neck was chafing her skin. The noisy and drunken shouts of the customers around her were giving her a stress headache.

If her mother could see her now, Annie knew she would throw a huge fit. “Annie Elizabeth Edison,” she would say, “I am so disappointed in you.” Then she would eye Annie with the disapproving stare that always made her cave to her mother’s every whim.

But not this time. This time, Annie had grown fed up with her mother’s demands and manipulations. She had been saving her pocket money for years, since there wasn’t much worth spending money on in tiny Greendale anyway. On her 18th birthday, she snuck out after her parents fell asleep, leaving behind a short note that said only that she was leaving and wouldn’t be coming back, and bought a one-way train ticket to New York City. Once she got to New York, she would be free of her mother’s expectations. She had heard about the women in the city. “Horribly improper,” the women of her family’s congregation scoffed disparagingly. “All those loose women, parading about in those immodest outfits.”

“I heard,” another woman would say, “that they sell illegal alcohol on every street corner!” All the women would gasp scandalized, and Annie’s mother would quickly change the topic of conversation.

Annie never saw the city that way though. She read the newspaper and the books; she had seen the movies, and listened to her classmates talk. To all of them, New York City was a glamorous dream. Bright lights, beautiful people, and – most important to Annie – freedom. To her, New York was a place where she could finally be free of others' expectations. Maybe, she could even fall in love with a handsome millionaire who would whisk her away to Europe and marry her like in the nickelodeons.

When she arrived, however, Annie’s romantic ideas came to screeching halt. She quickly realized that she had nowhere to stay in the city, and was running low on funds fast. On her first night alone in the city, she had slept on a bench in Grand Central Station. When she woke up, she was missing her hat and twenty dollars.

After that disaster, Annie shifted from idealistic mode to planning mode. She needed to find a place to live as soon as possible and suitable employment, although she doubted anyone would hire an inexperienced young girl like her. She had already tried to live in the moment, and that had ended up terribly. Luckily, her foresight had not completely deserted her in her brief moment of lunacy. She had kept most of her money concealed in a hidden purse under her shirt, and was relieved to find it was still there. She was beginning to regret her decision to go all the way to New York. She should have gone to Denver instead. Her father had taken her to Denver before, so it wasn’t like it was a completely unfamiliar place. She could have used the smaller city as a trial run, so she wasn’t completely clueless when she finally made her way to New York. Plus, if she had gone to Denver, she would have been able to go back home with her tail between her legs if things went wrong.

Then again, her parents would never take her back, even if she had only gone to Denver. She was a disgrace now. Only, instead of feeling like a blemish on the family name, Annie felt – well she didn’t know how she felt, but she imagined this was what feeling strong felt like.

Squaring her shoulders, Annie felt emboldened. Yes, she thought. She had made the right decision in coming to New York. And she was never going back.

...

The sign over the door of the brownstone proclaimed that the building Annie was standing in front of was indeed Pelton’s Boardinghouse. It was a little run down (a lot run down, she amended when the door nearly came off its hinges when she tried to knock), but Annie figured it would have to do, since it was the best she could afford. No one answered her knock, and the front door was open, so she stepped into the foyer of the building, looking about. “Hello?” she called cautiously.

“Oh, hello dear!” Annie shrieked, jumping about a foot in the air, hand fluttering to her chest where she could feel her heart pulsing against her ribcage. “Well, aren’t we jumpy today.” Annie’s eyes widened. Standing in front of her was a bald, bespectacled man wearing… a ball gown? She blinked twice, trying to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. It was awfully hot in the city, since it was the summer and all, and the air in the boardinghouse was very stuffy. Perhaps she was just sensitive to the heat. She blinked again. The man was still there, and still wearing the fluffy, pink, ruffle-covered monstrosity.

“Uh…” The man seemed to notice what he was wearing for the first time, and then looked back up at her with a face that was both challenging and slightly panicked.

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting a little pageantry in your life!” He declared. Back home, Annie knew, this man would definitely have been locked up in an asylum faster than one of the ladies at her parents’ church could say, “Amen.” But this was New York, right? Maybe this sort of behavior was normal here. She cleared her throat. “Excuse me, sir, but is the boardinghouse renting rooms?” The man relaxed.

“I… think so?” Annie raised an eyebrow.

“You think so?” The man shrugged.

“Oh, I don’t know, usually I get Miss Dart to do this sort of thing, but she quit, said she was tired of fixing all my mistakes and getting her hands dirty for Hawthorne…” Annie gasped.

“Hawthorne?” Even though Annie was a regular fish out of water in the city, she knew what the Hawthorne crime family was. Since there was never anything particularly interesting happening in Greendale, the local Greendale Gazette-Mirror often reported on events in other areas, including the big cities. The Hawthorne family had originally been in the paper making industry when they realized how much could be made from selling alcohol after Prohibition was introduced. While they were still technically a legitimate paper making enterprise, everyone knew that nearly all the bootlegging operations on the eastern seaboard could be traced back to Hawthorne. Judging by Annie’s stricken expression, the man seemed to realize he had made a mistake.

“I meant… Horton! Mr. Horton. Who runs…” the man trailed off, then was seemingly inspired. “A line of boardinghouses! No relation to the Hawthorne crime family. None at all.” Annie’s suspicion did not diminish one bit, but she figured the man seemed too nice and a little too scatterbrained to be a gunslinging mobster.

“Well then I’d like to rent a room.” The man looked so shocked he nearly fainted.

“What? Here? Are you certain?"

"Well..."

"I mean, of course Miss…”

“Edison.”

“Right, Miss Edison. My name is Craig Pelton, but everyone who is anyone around these parts calls me ‘the Dean.’”

“Oh please,” a new voice called from the top of the stairs. “No one calls you the Dean.”

“That would be Miss Perry,” Pelton said. “She also rents a room here. You’ll be sharing with her.”

“Oh yeah?” the voice came again.

“You better believe it Perry!” He turned to Annie. “The first rent payment is due on Monday, $15. Oh, and take this.” At this, Pelton turned, digging around in a drawer, and handed her a small handgun with such an air of nonchalance, that one could believe that he had done this before. Annie nearly dropped the weapon on the floor in shock.

“You can never be too careful in a town like this. If you head on upstairs, I’m sure Miss Perry would be happy to get you all settled in. Now if you’d excuse me,” he trilled, doing one more twirl in the ballgown, “I have a meeting to attend. Ta-ta, and welcome to the neighborhood, Miss Edison.”

Annie turned to stare at the staircase. Honestly, at this point she couldn’t tell if things were looking down or up, but as she began to climb the stairs she sincerely hoped it was the latter.


	2. Gimme That Swing Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Annie enters a speakeasy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I lied, there is no Jeff in this chapter (sorry shippers! still have some backstory left to go), but I hope everyone enjoys this! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Community, which is both a blessing and a curse.

“This is my– our room,” Miss Perry said, both starting and concluding her tour of Pelton’s Boardinghouse. “I’m going to go take a nap; I have work tonight.” She flopped face down onto the bed on her side of the room, short blonde curls bouncing a little as her hands scrabbled for the pillow that was laying on the floor. Annie figured that Miss Perry probably qualified as one of the “loose women” her mother was always complaining about. After all, her hemline was a good foot above respectable, and she was constantly smoking cigarettes (she called them “ciggys”), lighting them up one after another and carelessly throwing them out of the screen-less windows of the boardinghouse. Really, Annie thought, it was ridiculous how Mr. Pelton – or “the Dean”– had let the place fall into disrepair like that. He should at least –

“Wait, you have a job?” Miss Perry looked up.

“Of course I have a job. It’s the 20th century! As a modern, enfranchised woman, I have no problems joining the workforce. I don’t need a man to provide for me!” She had a manic gleam in her eyes, like she could probably go on forever about the evils of the patriarchy, so Annie spoke up.

“I was just wondering if, maybe, you could put in a good word for me?”

“Wait, let me get this straight. You want me to get you a job?” Annie shrugged and shuffled her feet a little.

“Well if I want to make the rent, I should probably hurry up on finding employment.” Miss Perry looked at her skeptically.

“Do you even know what I do?” Annie looked at her quizzically, then gasped.

“You don’t work in a you-know-what, do you?”

“You’re gonna have to specify around these parts. A you-know-what can be a lot of things.” Annie gaped at her, then took a deep breath, looking around and then leaning in.

“A… brothel?” Miss Perry looked offended. “I mean, not to imply that you do or anything.”

“As a modern woman, I embrace my sexuality and refused to be shamed by the patriarchy,” she huffed.

“Oh. Oh, um… I’m sorry, it’s just that everything’s so different where I came from and I’m a little overwhelmed and by a little, I mean a lot. I mean, my mother always told me New York was a ‘city of sin’ and that I could never make it here, but I guess I didn’t believe her until now; I slept on a subway bench my first night here for crying out loud! I don’t even know what I was thinking coming over here, I just thought, I don’t know, maybe I could have a fresh start? I should have known that living in the moment would end up like this. I’m not an independent woman, I’m a little girl who still needs her parents to hold her hand–”

“Stop right there!” Miss Perry demanded. “That’s letting the patriarchy win. Listen, I know that things may seem down right now, but you can’t submit to the will of man, otherwise it’s downhill for the entire gender.”

“But…” Annie sniffled, “what am I supposed to do? I mean, look at you! Look at me!” She gestured towards her long hair and ankle-length dress. “Maybe I’m just not built to be independent.” Miss Perry softened at the sight of her teary, wide-eyed face.

“Hey, it’s not gonna be so bad. I tell you what– I’ll try talking to the guys at work, see if I can get you a job– umph.” At this point, Annie had thrown herself and the woman and was hugging her with a sort of fierceness that was not belied by her small frame. 

“Thank you, Miss Perry, oh, thank you so much!”

“See?” Miss Perry said, all the while trying to extricate herself from Annie’s iron grip, “You’re half-way to independence already.”

“This means so much to me, Miss Perry, really.”

“My friends call me Britta.” Annie’s face lit up.

“So we’re friends?” Britta’s face softened.

“Yeah, I guess we are.” They stood in silence for a moment.

“So… what do you do?”

“Huh?”

“Your job, what do you do?” Britta scratched at the back of her neck.

“Well, the place that I work is… sort of a juice joint.”

“A what?”

…

“This is a classic movie trope. The “small-town girl in the big city hoping to make it on her own” character has been featured in stories since the beginning of time. Or at least since the beginning of the nickelodeon theater, which I argue is pretty much the same thing. What was your name again?” Annie stared at the bartender (“Abed Nadir, but call me Abed.”) over the counter from her stiff perch on the barstool. Its surface was sort of sticky and she was trying very hard not to touch it. 

“It’s Annie.”

“Annie. A perfect small town name. So, Annie, what brings you to New York? Never mind, I’m pretty sure I already know the answer to that. What was your ‘Welcome to the Big City’ moment?”

“I’m sorry?” 

“Never mind, never mind, I’ll come up with a full character back story for you later.”

“Abed thinks our lives are part of a picture show,” Britta rolled her eyes. 

“Art imitates life, Britta, and the silver screen is art.”

“If you say so, Abed. By the way, where’s Winger? Annie here’s looking for a job.”

“Really? A job at a speakeasy? Your character must be more desperate for money than I thought.” Annie shifted around uncomfortably.

“I got pick-pocketed at the train station.” Abed muttered something about a movie reference that she didn’t quite catch. “I’ve decided that if I want to make it in New York, I have to be independent and the first step to independence is employment.”

“What’s the second step?” Britta asked jokingly.

“Let me check,” Annie said as she began rifling through her bag for the small piece of paper she had written her plan on. “The second step to independence is–” She was interrupted when Abed crumpled up her paper and threw it over his shoulder. “Hey!”

“You need to embrace the trope, Annie. That means no planning. Live in the moment.”

“Last time I tried living in the moment I ended up sleeping in a train station and being pick-pocketed.”

“It’s all part of the charm of your character. You’ll make mistakes and have rotten luck, but you’ll be alright in the end.”

“You think I’ll be alright?” Annie asked. Something about Abed made it seem like if he thought she was going to be alright, then she really would.

“Enough with the character tropes, Abed, I don’t have all day for this. Where’s Jeff?”

“You don’t have all day? Interesting, Britta. Does your character have a second occupation or identity that you have been keeping from the other characters? What else do you have to do?” Britta looked put out.

“Well, I was just going to get Annie a job and go home and nap so I didn’t fall asleep behind the liquor counter again, but then you started grilling her like a reporter from the New York World.” Again? Annie mouthed to Abed. He eyed Britta, then turned to Annie and nodded at her discretely. 

“Jeff’s out for the day, he’s having lunch with Mr. Hawthorne.” Hawthorne. The crime family again? Didn’t Mr. Pelton mention that name before? What if she was slowly being sucked into a life as a mobster or a moll? She shook her head. She really had to stop being so paranoid. Both Britta and Abed worked in a “juice joint,” as Britta had called it, and they both seemed like perfectly nice, albeit slightly strange, people.

“Whatever. I can bring her back again tomorrow.” Britta shrugged and started to walk towards the door.

“Actually,” Annie began, then stalled. Actually what? Did she want the job? Did she not want it? She looked at Abed, although she doubted he had the answer. She expected him to stay silent. Instead, he spoke up.

“You’re hired.” 

“What?”

“What?!” Annie looked stared at him incredulously. 

“Abed, are you even allowed to hire people?” Britta asked.

“When Jeff left, he said I was in charge for the day. I suppose that means I can take over some of his duties, including hiring.”

“Are you sure?” Annie asked him.

“Your personality strongly contrasts with those of the rest of our group. You’ll change the group dynamic and your presence will provide the possibility for further hijinks.”

“…Alright then. Are you sure you want me though? I don’t have much experience.” Abed seemed to think about this for a moment.

“We’ll put you on a three-day probationary period as a cigarette girl. After that, you’re pretty much hired.”

Annie walked out of the building with a job, but without a cranky and tired Britta (“I’m going to bed, wake me up when it’s happy hour,” she had said before retreating into the back room of the bar. “But that’s not your apartment, Britta, that’s the back room,” said Abed. There was no reply. Minutes later, both Annie and Abed heard snoring). She had done it. She was now an employed, independent, New Yorker. Yes, she decided. Things were definitely looking up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so the next chapter may be 3rd person but from Jeff's point of view, but then that's it for the 1920's AU. Comment or message me at izzyisamachine.tumblr.com with more AUs or whether you'd like to see a Hogwarts AU or WWII AU next.


	3. Gimme That Swing: Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeff Winger is having a terrible day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so this will probably be riddled with grammar and spelling errors because I just tried to get it out ASAP because school is starting and I have a lot of work to do. Please forgive me, and I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Community.

“I’m sorry, Jeff, but business-ski is business-ski. If we don’t raise our prices-ski, the Mexicans will run us out of business.”

“For the last time, Pierce, your rum comes from the Bahamas, not Mexico. And most of the speakeasies have started selling moonshine. If you aren’t careful, you might be run out of business anyway.” Pierce chuckled.

“Winger, I am a respected business man-ski–”

“Who has other people run all of his operations.” Pierce ignored him.

“And as a respected business man, I think I know more about business than some hot-shot lawyer-ski. The price per gallon is seven dollars a barrel, and that’s final-ski.” Jeff rolled his eyes and pulled out his wallet.

“Not here-ski!” Pierce cried, slapping Jeff’s money down. “I am the heir of the Hawthorne paper-making industry! If anyone finds out if I’m in the–” he leaned into the table and whispers, “–bootlegging-ski industry-ski, I’m done for!”

“Whatever,” Jeff said as he stood. “I’ll pay when it gets delivered. Oh, and Pierce?”

“Yes-ski?”

“Stop tacking ‘ski’ onto the end of everything. It’s irritating.”

“You’re just jealous that I’m streets ahead-ski!” Pierce called after him as he walked out.

…

Jeff burst into the L-Street speakeasy in a whirl of frustration and expensive clothing. After he met with Pierce, his day had steadily gone downhill. He wondered if it was Pierce’s fault. Actually, strike that. He knew it was Pierce’s fault. Somehow. Once he had returned to the office from lunch, Alan had promptly dumped practically all the paper work from the past 5 cases on him, played sick, and taken the rest of the day off. Knowing Alan, he had probably taken off with one of the quiffs at the Priscilla Hotel, who he would then refuse to pay after receiving his night of companionship. Asshole. By the time he finally escaped, it was already 7:00. 

He sat at his usual barstool and motioned to Abed. “Brown plaid, Abed.” The bartender nodded.

“The usual. Do you need to talk about anything, Jeff? I’ve decided to fully embrace the bartender trope and try my hand at barstool therapy.” Therapy, huh? Britta would be so jealous. She was always harping on how she could be a great therapist if the patriarchy would just let women be a part of the profession. Jeff was sure that there were a lot of women out there who would make great psychologists. He was just also sure that Britta was not one of them. Speaking of which… 

“Have you seen Britta? Isn’t she supposed to be working tonight?” 

“She’s asleep in the back room.” Jeff got up from his stool, walked to the door of the back room, and slammed his elbow into it with so much force that it shook. The bang of the impact couldn’t be heard amidst the din of voices in the speakeasy, but for Britta it would reverberate against the walls in the room like a gunshot. Jeff pressed his ear to the door and heard her shriek and let out a stream of curses. He walked back to the bar stool. 

“Well she’s certainly not sleeping anymore.” He took a long swig of scotch and turned to look at the crowds that had gathered in the room. He may have had a terrible day, but L-street was his kingdom, and he was its king. He recognized a few of the regulars milling about. In the back, Ian Duncan, who was a professor at the nearby college, was already completely wasted. Which meant that he had already racked up an impressive tab. Jeff discreetly raised his glass in his direction. The more pickled Duncan’s liver got, the more money Jeff would be able to discreetly shovel into his already generously lined pockets.

As Jeff was contemplating his hypothetical newfound wealth thanks to the profound alcoholism of one Professor Ian Duncan, he was suddenly interrupted by a clattering sound on the counter top. 

“Hey, Abed, do you have any more cigarettes in the store room? I’m out.” He turned in the direction of the voice. Standing in front of him was a girl wearing a cigarette girl uniform. She had placed her tray down on the counter (which explained the clattering he heard earlier) and was currently trying to massage the angry red marks the neck strap had made on her skin. He turned to the bartender.

“Abed? Sidebar?” Jeff nodded in the direction of the back room, then started heading over, motioning for Abed to follow him. When he got to the door, he turned to face Abed just as Britta came barreling out. 

“I’m up! I’ve been up for hours!” Jeff rolled his eyes.

“I’m still docking your tips.” Britta glared at him and stalked off. He turned back to Abed.

“Abed, who the hell was that girl?”

“Oh, Annie? She’s the new cigarette girl. She sells cigarettes here.”

“I know what a cigarette girl is. I just don’t know why she’s here. I don’t remember hiring any cigarette girls.”

“I hired her.” 

“You what?”

“I hired her.”

“When?”

“While you were out.”

“Abed, you can’t just hire people. That’s my job.”

“I know it’s your job, but when you left you said I was in charge. In your absence, I assumed the role of Jeff Winger and also the authority to hire people.”

“Why?”

“I thought her personality would be a great addition to our group. Trope wise, every group of lovable misfits needs a Type A Ingenue in order to achieve the maximum number of hijinks. Generally by trying to decrease hijinks, the Type A ends up increasing them in a roundabout way. This leads to more entertaining circumstances in –”

“Abed, our lives are not a movie.”

“Right.”

“Well then, thanks to you I have to fire her.”

“But that will crush her.” Abed didn’t sound very upset about his statement; rather, he said it simply as if he were making a fascinating observation.

“Abed, we don’t have enough resources to support another employee. Pierce just raised his prices again.” Abed nodded.

“So then what will we do?”

“It’s not what we’ll do, it’s what I’ll do.”

“So what will you do?”

“I just have to manipulate her into leaving.” Abed looked at Jeff askance.

“I don’t think she’ll give up that easily.”

“Trust me Abed. I’m a lawyer. I manipulate people for a living. I think I can handle some small-town kid.” Abed simply shrugged and went to the back room to refill the cigarette tray. “You don’t need to do that, Abed,” Jeff said. “She’s leaving.”

“We’ll see about that.”

…

Annie hummed absent-mindedly as she waited for Abed to refill her tray. This “juice joint,” as Britta had called it, didn’t seem so bad. All she had to do was walk around and ask people if they wanted to buy cigarettes. It was sort of like how she used to sell flowers in the summer, only instead of cheerful harbingers of spring, she was now selling what her mother called “sinful goods” and what Britta called “ciggys.” The people in the city really did speak differently. Just this afternoon, she had bumped into an old man who had tacked “-ski” onto the end of his apology. In her peripheral vision, she saw a man slide into the barstool next to her. “Hey.” Annie looked around and realized he was talking to her. 

“Oh, hi,” she replied, ducking her head a little bashfully. He was very handsome. Handsome men didn’t approach Annie Edison back in Greendale.

“I’m Jeff Winger. I run this juice joint.” He held his hand out to her.

“I’m Annie Edison. I work here. Which Abed probably already told you.” She took his hand. Instead of shaking it, he brought it to his lips. 

“Milady.” She giggled a little.

“Milord.” He picked up his tumbler and downed the rest of his scotch.

“So, Annie. What brings you to the big city? Let me guess. Small town girl who wanted a taste of the wild side?” He smirked at her and she felt something flutter in her chest.

“Wow, you really got me pegged. Is my trope so common?”

“Trope?”

“Abed insisted on spending an entire afternoon going over tropes, whatever that means.” He grinned.

“That does sound like Abed.” He paused. “Look, Miss Edison. Where did you come from again?”

“Greendale.”

“Right. Greendale. Which is in?”

“Colorado. It’s out west.”

“I know where Colorado is. How much does a train ticket to Greendale cost?” Annie looked at him suspiciously. 

“Forty dollars. Why do you ask?” He sighed. 

“Miss Edison, to speak frankly, I don’t have the resources to keep you employed here.” Her face fell.

“But Abed said–”

“Abed doesn’t even have the authority to hire people. Look, Annie. Is it alright if I call you Annie?” She didn’t respond. “Annie, you are quite clearly out of place here.” She opened her mouth to protest. “And it’s not just the hair that gives it away.” Her hands immediately flew to her long locks. “Annie, you seem like a planner.” When she gave a slight nod, he continued. “And everything about this sudden flight from Colorado to New York seems like more of an ‘in the moment’ thing.”

“Well, it was sort of a last minute decision.”

“Exactly. So here,” he said as he pulled out his wallet. “Here’s fifty. Go home. Your folks are probably worried about you.” She stared at him.

“No.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“No. I’m not taking your money.”

“Kid, you might think that New York is some sort of dream city, but every day I pass people who are living in the street because they couldn’t make it.”

“I can make it.” He snorted.

“You say that now.”

“I already have somewhere to live, I’m employed, I–”

“You’re employed? Where?” She frowned.

“Here.” 

“No you’re not.”

“But Abed just hired me this afternoon!”

“And I already told you, Abed doesn’t have the authority to hire anyone.”

“But he already had me use the rest of my money for uniform fees!” Jeff sighed.

“I tell you what. You’re fired.” 

“What?!”

“You’ll get a few more days of pay as courtesy, and I’ll even reimburse you for the uniform, but then you’re on your own. Either you can go back home, or you can flounder around these parts looking for a job.”

“You can’t fire me.”

“Who says I can’t?”

“I’m not even hired yet.” Jeff’s brow furrowed.

“If you’re not hired, why are you working here?” 

“Abed said I got a probationary period of three days. Today, the only money I make is from tips.” Jeff scrubbed his hand over his face.

“Jesus.” 

“So if I can prove that I can handle living in a big city, you’ll let me keep my job?”

“Slow down, kid. I never said that. Are you even old enough to be here?” Annie let out an offended gasp. 

“I’m eighteen! Are you even old enough to be here?” He smirked at her.

“You’re kidding me right?”

“Technically,” Annie drawled, “no one is old enough to be here. Prohibition means that alcohol is illegal.” She was suddenly struck by inspiration. “If you fire me, I can easily go to the cops and tell them all about this place.” Much to her chagrin, Jeff began to laugh. 

“Oh please, kid. You don’t have the guts. Why don’t you just go home to your parents and admit you’re not cut out for city life?”

“I can’t. They won’t take me back.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re young, you’ll make mistakes. If they didn’t expect you to rebel every now and then, then they honestly weren’t meant to be parents.” Annie’s face closed off, and she looked down.

“Maybe they weren’t,” she mumbled. Jeff looked at her, and his face softened.

“Alright, look kid-”

“Could you please stop calling me kid? I’m eighteen, I’m an adult, and I’m independent. I don’t need anyone’s help. I’m not a child.”

“Eighteen? An eighteen year old isn’t an adult, Annie. An eighteen year old is a child who doesn’t realize that being an adult doesn’t mean that you can do anything you want.” 

Something in her expression hardened. “I’m not a child,” she repeated. Then, she grabbed the lapels of his suit and dragged his lips crashing down onto hers. 

The kiss was harsh, all gnashing teeth and angry mouths. He was surprised, and he doesn’t respond at first, but then he remembered the Winger Guarantee, and Jeff Winger doesn’t do mediocre kisses, so he kissed her back. She bit his lip, though he’s pretty sure it’s by accident, but he growled and used the slight opening of her mouth to try to slip in his tongue. She broke away suddenly, face flushed and chest heaving.

“I’m not a child.”

She turned and picked up her tray, now filled, hips swaying as she walked away with her head held high. He wanted to tell her that even if she wasn’t a child, she sure as hell kissed like one, with absolutely no finesse and way too much teeth. But somehow, he couldn’t even summon the ability to form words.

And for the first time (but certainly not the last), Annie Edison rendered Jeff Winger, fast-talking, silver-tongued big time lawyer and small time bootlegger, speechless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so if I have time in the future (haha school I can already feel you crushing my dreams) I will try to do a WWII AU followed by a Harry Potter AU followed by some sort of Medieval Vampires fusion AU. You can also prompt me or message me at izzyisamachine.tumblr.com.


	4. Blood and Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night falls. A Medieval Vampire Fusion AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done for Peef-Rimgar since I haven’t had much time to write lately because school is kicking my ass, and I didn’t want to keep them waiting for their prompt. Don’t worry though, WWII will probably be coming next! Also it’s Halloween now, so vampires?  
> In the interests of historifying this story, Annie and Jeff’s names have been slightly modified to Anna and Geoff. Super historical guys, super historical.  
> Christianity is also heavily featured, as it was the dominant religion of medieval Europe at the time, which is where this story was set. I am not a Christian myself, so any misinformation that may be included is unintentional and not meant to offend. Same with the vampire mythos. If there are actual vampires/super vampire fans out there, 1) please don’t eat me and 2) sorry for the sap-ification of your terrifying vampire culture.  
> Note also that this vampire au is in no way affiliated with the canonical vampire au. I am not Dan Harmon.  
> This one was written in a slightly different style than the first piece. Mainly, there is a lot more angsty pseudo-poetry, but not much “thy, thee, thou” and other essential medieval talk. Read at your own risk.  
> For some reason, the rest of the cast could not make this fic. They will probably be back next time, though, so stay tuned for WWII!
> 
> Unedited! Again. I really need a beta. (Apply in comments)  
> I do not own Community.

The stranger arrives at twilight, during the witching hour. He is alone, on horseback without an entourage. He introduces himself as Lord Geoff of Dover. He bows to Anna’s father and mother. She keeps her eyes down like a proper lady should, studying the tiles on the floor. She looks up when a hand is suddenly thrust into her field of vision. She looks up and sees Lord Geoff smirking at her, with a crooked grin and crinkling eyes. Despite herself, she is immediately charmed. He takes her hand and kisses it, calling her “Milady” and handing her a red rose from that he claims that he plucked from a wild bush on the way to their manor. 

She will deny it, but she keeps the rose for weeks, admiring its blood red color and pressing it between the pages of her journal once it dries out.

…

For the next 3 days, she doesn’t see their guest at all except at dinner time, when her parents insist that he eat with them. For the rest of the time, he seems to disappear without a trace, only reappearing once the sun begins to set. Sometimes a servant will claim to see him wandering a corridor during the day, but these claims are few and far between. Lord Geoff had originally claimed to be simply staying for a few weeks and then riding on to the next kingdom, but the sudden arrival of winter put a significant dent in his plans, so he instead decided to stay in the manor to change his course. He barely ever leaves his rooms, only emerging for a supper that he barely eats and then returning to his quarters.

Lord Geoff doesn’t speak, he barely eats, and then he retreats to his rooms. Sometimes Anna wonders what he does all day. 

…

She runs into him one day, while she is pacing the corridors at night. Anna has trouble sleeping, sometimes. Her nurse always used to tell her she should read the Bible on nights like these, to keep the devil from taking her waking soul. Anna always thought that her nurse was a bit too superstitious for her own good. Eventually, the nurse left the castle. Anna had outgrown her, and with that she had lost her final companion.

She is tracing the cracks in the stone on the wall when she sees him. He is strolling along the corridor at a leisurely pace. When he sees her, he absent-mindedly wipes his mouth on the back of his sleeve. She immediately drops into a curtsey. He smiles at her, mouth crooked. “Milady,” he quips, coming to a stop in front of her. She rises from the floor, keeping her eyes down. 

“Lord Geoff, what a pleasure to see you.” She chances a glance up at his face. He’s frowning. 

“Just Geoff is fine.” she gasps.

“But that would be improper!” His brow furrows, then smooths.

“Would it be less improper if I called you Anna as well?” Anna still finds it rather improper, but she finds that she rather likes the way her name rolls off his tongue. “It would only be when we are alone, of course,” he adds.

“Do you plan to be alone with me often?” she teases, and is immediately taken aback by her own boldness. He grins.

“That depends, do you often take late night walks around the castle without a chaperone?”

“Do you?” He shrugs. 

“I enjoy the night. I do my best thinking during this time.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” He holds his arm out to her.

“Grant a man the honor of your company, milady?” She smiles and takes his arm.

“Milord.”

…

 

Their late night walks become a regular occurrence. Anna learns that Geoff has a dry sense of humor, but is prone to making bad puns in order to amuse her, and that despite his snide and charming personality, he can be very sweet when he wants to be. Apparently the reason he eats so little at dinner is that he has been feeding one of her father’s hounds the scraps.

“Father was wondering why his prized hound is gaining so much weight! If you do that all winter, the animal won’t even be able to fit through the door!” she laughs when she hears. He looks sheepish.

“He looked hungry. And I like dogs.”

“Do you have one?”

“I used to, when I was younger. Her name was Rosie.”

“What happened to her?”

“What usually happens. She got old. I outlived her.”

“I’m sorry,” she tells him. He doesn’t respond, choosing instead to link her arm through his.

…

That isn’t to say that Geoff is the perfect companion. For one thing, he’s older than Anna would have liked, even though he has one of those faces that seems timeless. She always wanted someone her own age to interact with. For another thing, he’s bitter and cynical and sometimes cruel, telling her that the world doesn’t work the way it does in her head and that she’s better off trusting no one. On days that he’s like this, she chooses to ignore him. 

“Do you trust me?” he asks her one day.

“I do,” she says.

“You shouldn’t,” he tells her.

“I know,” she replies. They remain silent for the rest of the walk.

…

A sickness has come over the village. 

Anna first hears about it from the maids, who heard about it from the cook, who heard about it from the serving girls, who heard it from the stable boy, who heard from his cousin who works with the blacksmith. The sickness, as people have taken to calling it, is sweeping through the village, taking down everyone in its path. Some believe that witches have poisoned the well. Others believe it is the punishment of God. When Anna mentions perhaps going to the village to provide medical attention to the people (she has used her abundance of spare time to teach herself basic herbal healing, after all she likes to keep herself busy), her father shoots her down immediately.

“Absolutely not.”

“Are we going to send healers, then?”

“No, we need the healers at the castle, we can’t have them getting sick too.”

“But the villagers–”

“Are peasants.” Anna straightens her posture.

“Doesn’t the Bible say that we must be kind to the less fortunate?”

“I agree with the lady,” Geoff suddenly interjects. It is the first time he has spoken up at supper. “Providing your subjects with aid is a sign of goodwill and will cement their loyalty to you. It would be foolish not to help them.” Anna’s father considers, then relents.

“I will send a few healers down to the village, but you are not to go, you understand?” He directs this last remand to Anna. 

“I understand, father,” she replies. Later during the meal she shoots Geoff and grateful smile. He pretends not to notice it, but she can see the corners of his mouth tilting upwards.

…

The healers are sent, but the village gets worse.

…

“I don’t pray,” he tells her one day, out of the blue.

“Why not?” He gestures out the window towards the village.

“Look at them. They work and toil in the fields all day, they never leave the manor where they are born. They live here their entire lives, desperately reaching for a heaven that doesn’t exist and a God that doesn’t care. I don’t pray because I know better.”

“How can you say that?” she asks.

“Let’s just say I have some personal experience,” he replies. In the distance, she hears the town cryer calling out for people to bring out their dead.

…

The church bells toll in the distance. She stares out the tiny glass window that her father had installed especially for her chambers, her embroidery laying forgotten in her lap. She can sense him entering the room, but she does not look at him. “There are so many dead,” she murmurs. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see him shrug.

“People live, and then they die. It happens to everyone.” She turns to face him.

“I suppose. And one day it will happen to you, too.” He meets her gaze intently, his eyes burning with something manic and crazed and not entirely human. Then just as suddenly, he he laughs and breaks eye contact, turning away to peer out of her window.

“So tell me, my darling,” he says, flippantly, all previous fervor and sincerity gone. He turns back to her with a smirk. “How would you like to live forever?”

…

The next day, she goes to find him. He is in his room, writing something on a piece of parchment on his desk. He turns to face her, taking in her basket and the collection of medical supplies stowed under her arm. “I’m going down to the village,” she announces.

“Milady, the village is infected by the sickness and highly contagious. You know that. Besides, aren’t you forbidden to go?”

“I am,” she replies, “But I’m going anyway. And you can come with me or you can let me go alone.” Sighing, he picks up his cloak, pretending not to notice the way she beams at him, and follows her out the door. 

…

An young man is lying on a pallet in the middle of the room. Someone in the dwelling has started a small fire to keep warm, but the windows are boarded shut. This home is in quarantine. Geoff has already left her alone, pleading off on some errands he has to run. “But if you run into any trouble,” he told her, “you scream as loud as you can so I can come get you. You understand?” 

“Does that mean you’re concerned?”

“If I let the lady of the manor die on my watch, where will I stay?” Anna looked down at her hands, gripped tightly around the basket of rolls that she brought from the kitchen. “Hey,” he whispered, chuffing a finger under her chin. “Be careful, alright?” He removed his cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders, tying it at the base of her throat. 

“Won’t you be cold?” she asked him as he moved back. 

“You don’t want it then?” he teased making like he was going to take it back. She laughed and took off down the path to the village, hair and cloak flying behind her. 

“No!”

Now her previous levity feels misplaced. There are people dying in the village, and she was fooling around, letting the situation around her slowly get worse. She turns towards the old woman who opened the door for her. “You should probably get to a shelter, find some neighbors to take you in. We don’t want you getting sick, too.” The woman shrugs.

“I can’t, it’s too late. We’re already in quarantine. Besides,” she adds, glancing at the pallet in the middle of the room. “I’m an old woman. My time is here, and although good Lord willing,” at this the old woman looks up at the ceiling and makes the sign of the cross, “I may live a few more years. But my son is all I have left. Both of my daughters have married. If he dies, then I might as well die too; I will have no one to take care of me.” Anna nods resolutely.

“Then I’ll see what I can do.” She goes to kneel by the side of the man’s bed. His forehead is covered in a sheen of sweat. Someone had previously placed a wet cloth on his head, but has dried by now, and the man shivers in his sleep. Anna goes to remove the cloth, and his eyes shudder open. 

“Are you an angel?” She tries to smile at him, but she’s scared, terrified at being this close to death. Nonetheless, this man (a boy, actually, she notices, his face is still smooth under the sweat and grime) needs her help and she will give it. She turns to the old woman.

“Go to the well and re-wet this cloth, please. It will keep his fever down.” The old woman hurries off, and Anna lifts a vial of tonic out of the basket the cook had given her. The tonic, the cook had claimed, was her family’s secret remedy to all ills. Anna had recognized the potion from her own youth; her nurse had given it to her when she had been sick as a child. She only hopes that it would work now. 

She spends an hour just in that one dwelling, replacing the wet cloth, spooning tonic into the boy’s unresponsive mouth, wiping it off his chin when it inevitable dribbles out. It’s a terrifying experience for the both of them, him because he can no longer control even his own body and her because she is afraid that he will drop dead in her arms. She learns that the old woman’s name is Ruth and the boy’s name is Nathan. She had meant to go see other villagers, too, but she ends up staying in their home for hours, worrying about the boy as if he were part of her own family. As the church bells begin to toll the evening hour, she stands. “I should get home.” Ruth jumps up with surprising dexterity for an old woman and grabs her hand. 

“But we haven’t paid you.” Anna looks at her in confusion.

“You don’t need to–”

“We owe you a great debt. It must be repaid. Here, sit.” Ruth leads her to the small wooden chair in the corner and sits her down. “I might not have much money, but I have knowledge and I have memories. Stay, child, and listen to a story, and then our debt will be paid.” Anna shifts in the chair, deciding to humor the old woman. A story costs nothing, after all. 

“Once upon a time,” Ruth begins, “there was a land in which people knew of no god. It was a land of warriors and emperors, of riches and corruption.

In this land, there were two generals. Both were equally skilled and capable, both ruthless in battle. And they were bitter rivals. They were constantly competing, trying to conquer the most territory for their nation, to bring back the most glory, the most riches. 

One day, the emperor of the land decided to hold a competition. He decreed that the man who could bring him the most valuable treasure in the world could be his successor. Of course, both generals entered the contest. The first general searched far and wide, trying to find the most valuable treasure. He went over mountains, across rivers, through forests where it was too dark to see. From each place, he brought back a separate treasure, making it so that no man could follow him and steal these treasures before he did, ensuring that he would win the competition.

The second general, however, was more crafty, more clever. In his household employ, there lived a beautiful young maiden who worked in the kitchens. He had his maids dress her up and presented her to the emperor as the most beautiful woman in the world.

Now, the emperor had a bit of a weakness for beautiful women, but despite this, he had never seen a woman as beautiful as the maiden. He immediately declared the second general the winner of the contest and the successor to his throne. 

The first general was furious! That night, he crept into the second general’s house and slit his throat in his sleep. The second general died instantly, and the first general, who had won second place, was declared the emperor’s new successor. The second general’s household mourned him, for he had been a benevolent master in life.

The second general’s spirit went down to the underworld. There, he encountered the devil, for although the men had no knowledge of a God, there has always been evil and temptation. The second general struck a deal with the devil. He would trade his soul for revenge on the first general, no matter how long it took. Afterwards, his body would return to death and his soul would be owned by the devil for eternity. The devil agreed to the deal and resurrected the second general.

However, once the second general was resurrected, he realized that if he decided not to take his revenge, he would be able to live forever, as the devil promised he could have however long it took to kill his rival. The general eschewed his previous designs for revenge in favor of eternal life, thus besting the devil. 

The devil, knowing that he had been fooled, tried in vain to bring down the general. He made the man’s skin burn in the sun, made him weak against holy symbols, even made him crave the blood of other men. But the general took these things in stride. He was no longer a man, but a monster, and none of these things bothered a monster. 

However, what did bother him was not having an army, for at his core he was a general and he needed forces to command. Thus, he passed his affliction onto other men in an attempt to build an army. Luckily for the future of humanity, God sent warning to a young monk of the general’s unholy plan, and the good men of the town were able to defeat the general and scatter his army. 

Although the general was defeated, his army still roams the earth, creating more of their unholy number, gifted with unlimited strength, speed, and the ability to lead both men and women astray from the path of good. They have even found ways to counteract their weakness to the sun, ways to withstand their allergy to good. They continue to exist, feeding on the blood of the living in order to fuel their quest. They are the vampires, child, and remember dear girl to pray that you never meet one.” Ruth finishes her story, and then falls silent. She and Anna stare at each other uncomfortably for a few seconds, before Anna stands, smoothing down the front of her skirt. 

“Thank you for the story,” Anna says, her voice coming out hoarse and trembling, “but I must go now. It’s getting late.”

“We are grateful for all your help,” Ruth replies. “You be careful now.” Anna exits the house, walking briskly to the center of the town, the snow crunching under her feet. She sees Geoff standing by the well, and she hurries towards him. 

“There you are, I’ve been waiting for you.” The sound of his voice after the day’s ordeal is so comforting that she nearly runs into his arms. “If I knew you were going to be cold anyway, I wouldn’t have lent you my cloak.” It is only then that she realizes she is shivering.

“I want to go home now,” she whispers. Geoff doesn’t say anything, he simply offers her a hand, and they walk up the path to the castle together.

…

She finds out the next week. 

It happens like this: she is wandering on the castle out of boredom when she hears a faint thumping noise, a muffled shriek, and an eerie silence. She is immediately uneasy. “It could just be a maid killing a rat,” she reasons. After all, the castle had undergone a rodent infestation since the cold weather had set in, the animals trying desperately to migrate somewhere warmer. But something inside of her makes her put her foot forward, and before she knows it, she is creeping along the corridor, body moving on its own. She turns the corner and it is then that she sees him.

He is sitting sprawled against the wall with a girl in his lap. It’s not like she’s never seen something like this before; after all, the knights always get a little rowdy when the ale starts flowing at banquets. But the serving girl in Geoff’s lap doesn’t look much like she’s enjoying the experience. In fact, she doesn’t look like she can do much of anything; her head is tilted at an awkward angle and her eyes are glazed over, staring blankly into Anna’s. Geoff’s mouth is at the girl’s neck, and when Anna lets out an involuntary gasp, his head snaps up.

His eyes have gone black and crazed, his teeth sharp and covered in the serving girls’ blood. From two neat pin pricks in the girl’s neck, blood continues to flow, cardinal red and strangely viscous. Geoff’s blank eyes stare at her and he pulls his lips back into a snarl.

This is not the Geoff she knows, the one who walks with her late at night when neither of them can sleep, who gave her his cloak, who makes bad jokes and takes the time to listen what she has to say instead of dismissing her as a child. 

This is a monster. (The old woman's story comes to mind.)

She runs as fast as her legs can carry her, down the hall and then even further, out to the stables. It is freezing outside and she isn’t wearing a cloak, but she doesn’t care, her heart is pounding so hard she wonders if he – it – can hear her even through the castle walls. Only then does she think to turn around to check if he has followed her.

He is not there.

… 

She does not see him again for another week. 

She no longer takes walks in the corridors when she cannot sleep, preferring instead to pace the length of her room over and over than to run into him. She has the maid lock the door before leaving, and buries herself in layers of blankets and furs, as if hiding from a monster under her bed. (What she’s hiding from may not live under her bed, but it is definitely a monster. At least that’s what she tells herself.)

She lets the fire go out night after night and will not rekindle it. Every morning she wakes up cold and tired and weak, but this is her penance.

She wonders if all the suffering in the world could make God forgive her for falling in love with a monster. 

…

She finally runs into him on her way back from the chapel after dinner on a Saturday night. “Milady,” he greets her, flashing her a charming smile and she almost forgets what he’s done. But that’s what Geoff does. He does bad things and then he makes you forget them by charming you or… something. This afternoon, she saw the serving girl again. She was walking to the kitchens while tying her apron around her waist. Anna wonders whether or not the girl even remembers what happened that day. She wonders how he managed to fool them all so well. Seeing him now makes her so angry, and being so angry makes her so dizzy she almost wants to drop to her knees and sit back on the cold stone floor. She’s been getting dizzier and dizzier recently. It’s probably just the stress of Geoff’s secret weighing on her. She wishes she had never found out. 

He’s approaching her now, and Anna only just realizes that she has been standing stock still. He looks at her, concerned. Like he has the right to be concerned. “Are you okay?” She glares up at him.

“I won’t tell anyone if you pack your bags and leave this manor by tomorrow morning.”

“That’s not why I asked. Are you sure you’re alright?” In truth, she is not alright. She hasn’t slept in days, can never seem to eat but is always hungry. She looks up at him, now knowing how he can stay up all night and never look tired. She wonders if he feels the same way she does now, always strung out and weary.

“You have no right to worry about me. I want you out of here.”

“Anna–”

“What are you going to do to me, Geoff? Are you going to… do something to me? Like you did with that girl? I saw her the other day, Geoff. She doesn’t remember a thing. You could just wipe my memory, couldn’t you?”

“I can, but I wouldn’t do that to you.” 

“Why not? What’s stopping you?”

“Do you want me to?” She blinks rapidly, looks down. When did the floor start spinning? He grabs her arm. “Why don’t we have this conversation when you don’t need urgent medical attention?”

“Now is a perfectly good time to have–” her head is swimming. She presses her hands to her temples, feels the ground spin beneath her feet. “–this conversa–”

The last thing she remembers seeing is Geoff’s worried face swimming above her.

…

The doctor says that she has the sickness.

It was honestly only a matter of time before it made its way to the castle, but Anna always thought there would be a warning, a sense of dread or a premonition before it finally struck. 

The doctor advises that they quarantine her in her room and let her die in peace. No one ever recovers from the sickness, after all.

Day after day, she lies in her bed, staring at the ceiling and drifting in and out of consciousness. She is constantly in pain; everything from her head to her toes simply hurts. It hurts to move, and it hurts to breathe. Sometimes the priest comes to visit and hold her hand. “Confess your sins to me, my child,” he urges. “Let yourself be saved by God’s will.” She grips his hand tightly, but will not speak.

She tosses and turns in her sleep, dreaming of blue eyes and strong hands and the devil’s teeth.

Idly, she wonders if this is her punishment.

… 

The door creaks open and she turns to face it, expecting the priest. Instead, Geoff stands in the doorway, his height filling the frame. Their eyes meet and he makes his way towards her.

He kneels by the side of her bed, clasping his hands together. “What are you doing?” she whispers, voice hoarse and choked.

“Praying,” he replies. There’s something uncharacteristically manic in his voice; his posturing of cool indifference is gone and he is resolutely not looking at her. She turns away, suddenly unable to bear it. She coughs, and he grabs her limp hand. “Anna. Annie.” There is a fervor in his voice, a sudden urgency that wasn’t there before. “Tell me. Do you want to live forever?” She turns to face him, her eyes the only thing that are still alive in a sunken face. 

“I don’t want to die.”

…

It is he who takes the first bite, but it is her original sin.

She seals her deal with the devil with a kiss.


End file.
